"No more don't I," nodded the Old Un, "what's the old song say:
"'I don't care if it rains or snows
Or what the day may be
Since 'ere's a truth I plainly knows
Love, you'll remember me.'"
"But say," began the bewildered Spider again. "Say, I reckon—"
"So do I," nodded the Old Un:
"'I reckon up my years o' life
An' a good long life 'ave I.
Ye see, I never had a wife,
P'raps that's the reason why.'
"So take it from me, young feller, me cove, don't 'ave nothin' to do with givin' or takin' in marriage."
"Marriage?"
"Marriage ain't good for a fightin' cove—it spiles him, it shakes 'is nerve, it fair ruinates 'im. When love flies in at the winder, champeenships fly up the chimbley—never t' come back no more. So beware o' wives, me lad."
"Wives!" repeated the Spider, lifting free hand to dazed brow, "I—I ain't never—"
"That's right!" nodded the Old Un heartily, shaking the Spider's unresisting hand again, "marriage ain't love, an' love ain't marriage. Wot's the old song say: